Rundown
by palomino333
Summary: Companion piece to A Sense of Shame, request fic. A reunion with a few friends in Boston while on leave does not bring the happiness Scout intended to find. Rated for underage drinking, profanity, and sexual content.


It's been a while since I wrote for Team Fortress 2. I'm glad my friend requested a fic from me, because it was fun to get back into the fandom. This fic takes place during Scout's time home in A Sense of Shame. I own nothing.

* * *

Had it not been for noise regulations, Scout would have galloped down the hallway in excitement Whether he was screaming in the stands, or watching on the television screen, game day always set a jolt of electricity through him.

The Sox were at home, he was going to spend time with his old friends, and just for once, he could forget about his worries for a little while. This day had definitely been worth the wait.

His excitement was hammered out in a few sharp raps on the rather gaudily-painted door with the numbers 302 staring back at him from its surface. Hopping from foot to foot, he eagerly waited for it to swing open.

"Sheesh, it took you long enough!"

Scout punched his friend in the arm as he crossed the threshold. "You serious? I ran here so fast, I had a cop tailing me!"

Duncan nudged him back in response as he shut the apartment's front door. "Make yourself at home. The game should be coming on in an hour," he gestured at the living room's television set, currently off, for emphasis.

Taking his hat off, Scout closed his eyes, and took a generous breath of the pungent aroma coming from the kitchenette, half hidden through a doorway on the room's left. It was quite a welcome change to the rather sour-smelling air in the apartment building's stairwell.

He licked his lips. "Oh man, I missed that smell."

Duncan smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. "I'd take that over hot dogs at the game."

Scout's head swung around sharply. "Watch what you say, brother!"

He held up his hands, realizing he had trodden upon sacred ground. "Okay, okay, maybe not, but I gotta admit, it comes close."

Folding his arms and tilting his head to the side, Scout replied from out of the corner of his mouth, "Uh huh, yeah. And the fact that you're married to her has nothing to do with it."

Pushing a few strands of auburn hair that had fallen loose in front of his eyes back, Duncan replied simply, "Let's not forget who cleaned out a whole pot last time," jamming his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head toward the kitchenette, "She's making an extra helping just for you. You're welcome."

Scout gave a genuine smile. "Glad to see you guys again."

It was returned. "Same to you. If you wanna say hi to Eileen, you can, but I wouldn't go in there. It's a little crowded already."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Duncan winked, his narrow face betraying nothing. "Got a little surprise for ya, is all. We don't get to see ya very much."

Reaching to the side wall, where a broom was propped up, he added, "Sorry about the mess. I was going to clean up around here last night, but I ended up working late. Not shocking, I guess, since today is what it is."

Scout shrugged as he headed in the direction of the smell. "Looks okay to me."

Getting a small taste of Eileen's famous (sort of) anything-goes stew was more prominent in his mind than the state of his friend's living room. From the smell of it this time, she'd tossed in beef, and some rather spicy herbs. His eyes were beginning to water a little from it.

A loud clang came as a pot was dropped into the sink, followed by the spray of water from the faucet. The rapid pinking noises that were heard shortly after indicated that it was falling into the pot.

Scout fell to a half-crouch with a smirk on his face as he crept up behind its holder, her brown curls facing him.

"Be sure y—ah!" Eileen jerked backwards as he hopped up, grabbing her shoulders for a moment before letting go.

Whirling around, she exclaimed in agitation, "Hey, what's the—oh, hi, Oliver! Glad to see you!"

"Glad to see you too," he replied as she hugged him, ignoring the orange-brown smears that were transferred from the front of her apron to his shirt as she did so.

"How's New Mexico? Did you bring us any pictures?" She asked hopefully.

"Matter of fact," he reached into the pocket of his shorts, and pulled out a photograph, "I did."

Taking it with an excited grin, she eagerly roved her eyes over it.

Scout smiled in self-satisfaction. The picture detailed a sunset over the desert, with the ground itself turning a sort of pinkish color below the dark oranges, reds, and purples as the Sun made its descent. Glistening in the darkness above had been the first few stars of the night.

Even though he was greatly annoyed by the ballads of cowboys and desperados that Engineer insisted on blaring whenever he took a drive in his truck, riding along with him into town did have its perks. Case in point, the truck had to stop when a tire blew out, giving Scout the chance to snap a quick photo. He'd been thankful that he'd actually remembered to take the camera that time.

Then again, considering how much of an old fossil that truck was, he practically knew the ins and outs of the vehicle as well as its owner did by now. During every other trip, he would either end up having to hold open a jack, or open the hood for Engineer to look inside.

"Better than lying around the base all night," Scout had once muttered to his teammate whilst wiping his hands free of grease on an offered rag.

"Uh, be sure what?" Another voice inquired from near the stove.

Scout glanced up quickly. "Penny?"

She gave him a quick wave, although her attention wasn't focused on him. The pot next to her on the stove was currently bubbling, a cloud of steam rising from it. Scout could see a few greens just below the surface of the water.

"Oh, make sure you keep stirring. I don't want anything to stick," Eileen replied, handing back the photo, "Don't take this the wrong way, Oliver, but can we talk later?"

As a response, he backed out of the doorway and back into the living room as she went over to Penny to give further instructions.

Plopping down on the couch, Scout placed his hat and picture on the coffee table. Throwing his arm around its back, he craned his head to look at Duncan, who was placing the broom away in a side closet. "You weren't kidding, that was a surprise."

"Thought you'd wanna see her," he replied, closing the door with his foot before heading over to join him.

Resting his elbows on the top of the couch next to Scout, he asked, "That a new picture?"

"Yup," he held it up to him to take.

Duncan whistled at the sight. "What I wouldn't give to be there."

"It's boring as hell," Scout replied, "Besides, I don't think the local folks like me too much."

"What makes you say that?" His divided attention was reflected his half-hearted tone.

"Since a teammate of mine got the brilliant idea to blow up a mall Santa training facility," he replied simply.

The picture fell to land beside him on the couch. "Wait, say that again?"

"Remember that batshit crazy guy I mentioned before?" Scout asked, "Last time I'll ever listen to him. I had to do community service for it in a freaking elf costume! I couldn't even pick up a single chick! Oh well, at least I got to be a hero in the end. Man, that was—" He broke off upon noticing that Duncan was probably going to catch a fly with his open mouth.

"Uh, long story short, my Christmas got a little weird last year," he dropped his arm in order to place his hands behind his head, and lean back on the couch, "So, how was yours?"

Duncan's voice was muffled, as his head was currently down on the couch. "Could I ask a question?"

"Yeah?"

He raised his head for a moment, his green eyes slightly glassy. "Why did you do it?"

Scout held up his hands. "In my defense, we're talking about a guy that carries a shovel around with him when he isn't sleeping. You really think I'd say no?"

"Good point," he replied.

With a heavy shrug of his shoulders, Duncan commented, "I don't know how you deal with those guys. I don't think I'd last."

"Eh, they're not all like that," he replied, "Besides, even the really weird ones grow on you in a way."

With a sniff, he added as an afterthought, "Doesn't mean I'd want to do it for the rest of my life, though."

"Beer?" Duncan inquired, rising off the couch.

Scout chuckled. "I think you need it more than me. Sure, I'll take one."

Pops were heard as the caps were taken off the bottles.

Tipping his head back, Scout took a long, refreshing drink. Although the brand wasn't exactly good, it was a welcome break from BLU Streak. He could never say the same for regular soda as opposed to Bonk, though, but that was another story.

Duncan, meanwhile, held his bottle to the side, his wrist over his knee. "How's your mom doing?"

Scout yanked the bottle out of his mouth, catching a few drops by smacking the back of his hand to his lips. "Can we not talk about that?"

Although it was obvious that his friend wanted to know, he nodded his head.

Scout wasn't sure if he could have explained it, had he tried. Telling the story of his mother sleeping with another man was painful enough, but to find out that her lover had been her husband all along only threw gas on the fire, not to mention its implications.

He shoved the image of a revolver, its barrel placed to the side of Engineer's head, out of his mind with the image of a Sox player sliding in to home plate taking its place. After all, this is what he had come here for, an escape.

"Anyway," he set the bottle down on the table, "I thought Penny was still in New York. What's going on?"

Duncan smiled for a moment, but it quickly fell. "You've missed a few things, Oliver."

He lowered his head. "Yeah, I know. I was going to call you just to catch up a few weeks ago, but stuff got a little out of hand."

Groaning, Scout put his hand to his face. "Three-day battle. It was brutal. And things just went downhill from there."

"Sometimes I wonder how you do it," Duncan muttered, "I know the pay's good, but I don't think I'd be able to do that. Too much stress, and Eileen…I couldn't leave her behind."

Scout let go of his face to raise his head. "Is Eileen…?"

He shook his head. "No, we wouldn't be able to take care of one. Besides, we're a little young, anyway."

Scout put his hands behind his head. "Sorry to hear that."

Duncan smirked. "I don't think it'd go too well, anyway. A scrapper wouldn't make a good role model."

"We were kids," Scout corrected.

"Says the guy who bashes people's brains in for a living," he replied, rising to stride over to the television, and turn the knob.

Advertisements for detergent and cars flashed by as he searched for the correct channel.

"Duncan," he leaned forward over the couch, his tone becoming serious, "Why's Penny back? You still haven't told me."

A background cheer rose as Fenway Park, cast in the sunlight, appeared on-screen.

With a sigh, his friend got up, turning to face him, "She's broke."

"What?" Scout asked incredulously, "I thought she was staying with her sister. What happened with that?"

"They had a fight," he replied before taking a drink, "Long story short, Penny's sister met a guy. They ran off to get hitched."

He shrugged, "Penny would've just been a third wheel."

"Doesn't mean she should've left her," Scout replied, his voice rising, "I know my brothers and I never got along, but none of us would've done that. Besides, last time she wrote me, she said she had a job. What happened to that?" He waved his hand for emphasis.

Duncan shook his head. "She didn't have it long. It wasn't like her sister didn't give a damn; the guy she married had a good career, and she sent her money."

"But Penny didn't take it," Scout muttered, a trace of bitterness in his voice, "Yeah, she refused my cash, too, when they first left."

"Reminds me of someone I know." His undertone of smugness wasn't difficult for Scout to miss.

Giving Duncan a hard shove that ran him into the arm rest on his respective side, he shot back, "This isn't about me. Where's she living now, with you two?"

He shook his head. "No, her folks took her back in, but it hasn't been pleasant. Eileen's teaching her that recipe to help take her mind off things."

"I can imagine," Scout muttered more to himself, "When did she come back?"

"Like I said, a few weeks ago. She finally got a job last week, seamstress' assistant. It's really nothing glamorous."

The mercenary frowned. "Far cry from what she wanted to be."

Duncan shook his head. "We can't all be the crowd favorite."

Glancing down at his bandaged hands, Scout replied in a lower tone, "Yeah."

A cheer emanating from the screen rose, drawing their attention back to it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's looking like a fine day for baseball," proudly announced Ned Martin as the camera panned over the screaming hordes of people in the stands.

Scout leaned forward over the edge of the couch as the Sox's dugout was prominently displayed, the players talking among themselves, staring out over the field, or simply standing.

A grin spread over his face as he glimpsed the number fourteen. Its owner, Jerry Adair, had his head tilted up toward the audience, his face illuminated by an eager grin as he subconsciously pounded his fist into the glove on his right hand.

"There's your boyfriend," Duncan teased.

"He's a great player," Scout defended, "There's no reason not to look up to him."

"He's not from here," Duncan argued, "Besides, if it wasn't for him, we'd still have McMahon."

"Who hops between teams worse than Angeline Cartwright did with half the roster of our high school's football lineup," retorted his friend.

"And Adair's been on how many teams now?" Pressed Duncan before triumphantly taking a drink.

"He's still a good player," Scout declared with relish, realizing he was grasping at straws, "That's what counts, anyway."

"Yeah, but you and I know that we're die-hard Red Sox fans, so we're both in the wrong. Adair and McMahon are talented, can't take that from them, but they aren't true Boston boys."

Scout rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh.

"What's the matter?"

He chuckled, dropping his hand. "Look at us. We're talking about these guys when who's on what team really doesn't matter, so long as he plays good. Come to my turf, it's different. The color shirt you're wearing still means a paycheck, but it's just not the same."

The television screen, having just given a generous view of the Minnesota Twins in the visitors' dugout, revealed the field in its entirety once more, the white bases standing out against the darker green of the field.

Scout's eyes focused upon those eye-catching squares as he clarified, "None of those guys gotta worry about getting killed out there. Hurt, yeah. Happens all the time. Adair ain't a Boston guy, I know, but even when he's injured, he still drags himself out there to play. That's commitment, and I want that. I've had to drag myself out of my bunk, knowing what was coming," he shuddered, "but I still went out there."

A hand grasped his shoulder firmly, causing him, having been too involved in his thoughts, to jump, and whip his head around at Duncan.

The young man's expression wasn't pitying; Scout would have been grossly offended by that.

Scout knew his friend would never completely understand his situation, but at least he could say that he tried. He knew he was worried, that was easy to see in the frown lines of his face, but there was more to it. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale complexion of his face, despite the fact that it was mid-summer, told something that his casually tussled hair and turned-out pockets hid.

"I'm gonna tell you this now, Ollie," he began, "We're getting out of this, you, me, Eileen, and Penny. I don't know how, but we are."

His chest rose as he took a deep breath. "I don't know how, but we will."

His grip tightened, the words becoming choked.

The television continued to babble excitedly to itself about the game, now rendered irrelevant.

Duncan gasped, his head dropping as he tried to maintain control of himself, "I just can't think of that stuff you talk about happening to you."

Scout knew he kept his head down for an ulterior reason, as well: his bangs hid his eyes.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed when Duncan rubbed at his eyes with his free hand.

Reaching up, he slowly took his friend's hand from him, and uprighted it before firmly grasping it.

The civilian in turn raised his head just enough to see out from beneath the strands of his hair, his embarrassment still palpable, but his inquisitiveness winning.

"We will," Scout confirmed, gripping tightly once more for emphasis.

Slackening his grasp, he added, "Get some sleep, Duncan. I think ya need it."

XXXXXX

"Bullshit! He was out!" Scout exclaimed, nearly upsetting the bowl on his lap.

He glared fiercely at Frank Quilici, who was lightly running back to his team's dugout from home plate.

"Oliver," Eileen's warning voice came from across the room.

"Sorry," he replied in an offhand tone.

"Relax, it's just the fourth inning, and we have four runs," Penny comforted from where she sat on the floor, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear.

He groaned. "So much for a perfect game."

"There is next season," Eileen offered, "Besides, I didn't think you were a betting man."

"I'm not, but geez, is it too much to ask for a perfect game as a welcome back gift?" He mumbled.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "I told you."

"Shut up and eat your stew," Scout retorted.

He chuckled in response before taking a generous spoonful.

A bowl sat empty on the coffee table before Scout, his first helping spent. Penny's was stacked on top of it, the spoon prominently sticking out.

Eileen smiled. "Well, at least somebody appreciates my cooking prowess."

"Oh really?" Duncan raised an eyebrow, pointing his spoon at his chest, "And who went to three stores yesterday to make sure that you had everything you needed?"

"I did," she replied cheekily before leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek, "But you helped."

"So how did I do?" Penny piped up as the next pitch came.

The Twins' batter swung and missed, the ball striking the glove of the catcher behind him.

"Not too shabby," Eileen praised, pushing her own empty bowl to the side, "You can come by again, and I'll teach you a few more things."

She nodded. "When I have time, but thank you."

"Penny, about that—" Scout was cut off by her angered exclamation

"Ball?! That was a strike, you idiot! Are you blind?" She shook her head in bewilderment at the call.

"This umpire can't tell his head from his rear end half the time," Duncan agreed.

Penny shifted to look over her shoulder at Scout. "What were you asking?"

He smiled. "How's the new job going?"

She shrugged. "Okay. I can't really say anything for sure, since I just started, but it's something to do."

"Anyway," she waved her hand, "let's change the subject. How are you doing? Eileen said you're still working for the BLU company."

"Pretty much," he replied, "Makes me miss being here. I'm glad I got to watch the game with you guys."

Eileen raised her beer with a slight smile. "Wanna drink to that?"

"Oh, yeah."

Her smile dropped as soon as she set it back upon the table. Closing her eyes, she pushed her curls back over her neck. "You still have our high school photo album?"

Signatures curled in bright blues and sleek blacks sprung immediately to his mind. Memories of excitement over the quick-coming summer and exclamations of, "Hey, Ollie! Did you sign mine yet?" were drowned out by much less happy implications.

The school auditorium was filled with grave-faced students, with girls in bright dresses and headbands clinging to their boyfriends, or worriedly talked in hushed tones with their friends of the opposite sex.

Boys who could barely register as men sat quietly, their hands gripping the armrests of their seats tight. Their eyes were blankly fixated upon the center stage as they surrendered themselves to a folly of chance.

Duncan's head peeked out from a few rows below him, with Eileen's head on his shoulder. The movement of her curls indicated that she was shaking.

Scout's knuckles were white as they pushed down heavily upon the material beneath him. Sweat beaded on his brow, and the back of his neck. His teeth were tightly gritted. His eyes were fixated upon the spinning cage in which the suspended balls tumbled, and the government representative at the podium beside them.

Penny's comforts from where she sat beside him were mere noise in his ears.

He closed his eyes, slumping back in his seat as the cage cancelled its rotation. He could only submit himself to his fate.

When he opened them again, the portraits of his classmates flashed past his vision as Scout quickly turned through the pages of his yearbook. The faces of those who the raffle had selected slowly vanished from view, leaving their frames vacant.

A helicopter's blades sliced through the air as they vanished into the jungle, never to be seen again.

Scout frowned as he drew himself out his thoughts, his hand grasping his dog tags. Had it not been for the intervention of BLU, he would have followed them.

He released them. "Yeah, I do."

Eileen sighed. "The telegrams came out again."

Scout braced himself before asking how many.

Duncan quietly held up four fingers.

"Christ," Scout muttered in defeat before picking up his beer bottle, and taking a long drink from it.

"He's out!" Martin's excited exclamation from the television set, followed by a ripple of a cheer, drew no emotion from the four within the room.

Penny's green eyes flashed up at Scout before he took a much deeper drink, the murky liquid in the bottle draining completely out.

XXXXXX

"Can't believe they actually pulled it off," Scout muttered with a small smile.

Penny nudged him playfully. "Oh come on, have a little more faith in our team."

His hand grasped a sign post as they rounded the bend, and he effectively spun for a moment on the metal. "Not that I don't, it's just that the Twins almost had us there for a while."

She smiled. "The Sox still have all summer to get better, don't forget."

He grinned. "'Course."

Penny's smile grew broader as she took out the band that was holding up her hair to fluff it out. "It's really been too long."

Scout touched the brim of his hat. "It's always good to see you, Pen."

His shoes clattered as he walked over top of a sewer grate.

Once it had been cleared, however, he stopped to look at her from the side, the fading sunlight casting orange against her cheek. "You okay?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

Scout grasped her shoulder. "Penelope, don't try that with me."

She half-turned sharply to face him, brushing his hand off. Her previous expression was replaced with a glare. "For God's sake, Oliver, how the hell do you think I feel right now? That I'm okay with what Darcy did to me?"

She dropped her head to rub her eyes. "Can we just not talk about it?"

"Pen, when was the last time we even had a conversation?" Scout's annoyance was coincidentally punctuated by the honking of a car on the road beside them.

She scowled. "Oh yeah, I remember, three months ago. Nice to know that you're so willing to keep in touch. It isn't impossible to write a letter if you don't have time to make a call!"

Scout returned the scowl. "What was I going to write about? We were running out of things to talk about, anyway. You were in big, flashy New York City, and I was kicking dirt in New Mexico."

She rolled her eyes. "Then why are you getting angry at me? We're both in the wrong."

Scout said nothing for a moment; rather he slightly pushed aside a passerby in order to alight upon a nearby stoop.

Penny folded her arms, and leaned back against the post behind her, ignoring the wind that was periodically kicked up by the passing vehicles.

Taking off his hat, Scout smacked it down on the step beneath him. "It's the fact that you're so damn proud. I offered to help ya, hell, even your damn sister did, but you were just too good for that."

He shook his head, chuckling humorously to himself.

Penny's scowl deepened. "Pot calling the kettle black, Oliver."

He rubbed the side of his face as his laughter died off. "No wonder we didn't work out as a couple. Oh well, you were still the best girl I had."

The scowl disappeared, but she didn't relax her pose.

"I know you can look out for yourself, but that's still New York. I just wanted to help."

She shook her head. "Wouldn't have done anything, anyway," she waved her hand, "I was in over my head, I get it."

Rising from the post, she walked over to sit beside him. "I didn't want anything to do with Darcy after she ran off with that guy, but I guess I was wrong. Can't have a sense of integrity, I guess."

"You or her?" Scout asked sarcastically.

"Who do ya think?" She replied evenly, "I didn't just drop my sister, did I? And she could burn that money for all I care; it doesn't change the fact that she left me behind."

He nodded his head. "Can't argue with that."

Penny cast her gaze away from him as she added, "Let's just say that things got harder than I thought they would."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she mumbled, "I'm through with 'show business,' if ya can even call it that."

Scout felt anger build up in him at her choice of words, and it was plain to see on his face.

"My own damn fault," Penny added with a sharp note in her voice, "You can't change it."

His fist clenched and unclenched behind him at the mental image of a camera flash reflecting off of the upper half of Penny's body, her hands covering her breasts from view, appeared to him.

Not that the image was completely without cause of anger to him; there had been a time when he had taken those hands away.

She'd been his best girl in more ways than one.

Scout drew a breath, partly to keep himself from screaming his head off. First the entanglement with his mother and (dare he call him) his father, and now this. He was right in believing his time with Duncan and Eileen to be the light part of his homecoming; now it had plunged back into a dreadful sort.

Letting it out, he asked, "Ya need anything?"

Penny shook her head, and he grasped her arm tightly, a fierce look on his face. "I ain't gonna ask ya again."

"Let go of me, Oliver," she retorted evenly, jerking her arm back.

He did so after a few moments, and with enough force to send her back a little.

Penny rose indignantly as a result, shooting a glare at a passerby who had stopped due to Scout's sharp movement.

The pedestrian hurried off in turn.

"Should've known talking to you was a bad idea," she continued, stepping down off the stoop.

Snatching his hat up, Scout rose, his dog tags clinking. "It wouldn't've been if you'd let me help you!"

"And make myself a burden? No thanks," Penny responded snidely as she began to walk away from him.

A flying leap sent him down the stairs to land next to her. "Then what the hell do you call this, Pen? Moving back in with your folks?"

The corner of her mouth twitched for a moment, but her face otherwise remained still.

He smacked his hat against his hip, muttering, "Oh shit, that was harsh. Sorry."

"What the hell do you want from me, Oliver?" She snapped.

Scout winced, knowing he'd deserved her tone.

Penny folded her arms. "All I wanted was to have a nice walk back home with a friend, but I guess you can't give me that."

Replacing his hat on his head, Scout retorted, "And you'd expect me not to ask ya just what the hell's been going on? Ya think people don't talk?"

She sniffed. "I didn't ask you about being blown to pieces nearly every day, did I?"

"I can't see which way is better, you going off to Vietnam," she paused, turning way, "Where I might never so you again, or…this."

Scout placed his hand gently against her back, and Penny did nothing to distance herself from him this time. "I'm still standing here."

She let out a sigh, her body moving beneath his hand.

Her sigh became a gasp in his mind as he recalled one last memory.

Penny's hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat as she grasped his, tugging him back down for a fierce kiss, his tongue sliding over her teeth before teasingly rubbing against the wall of her mouth.

Drawing out with a gasp, he kissed down the side of her bare neck before biting at the juncture between it and her shoulder.

She cried out in turn, squeezing her legs ever tighter around his hips, and digging her fingernails into his shoulder.

Scout broke off for a moment to tug her left leg further up on his hip, the springs of the cheap motel's mattress squeaking beneath them.

Penny panted, her eyes locked with his, and her reddened cheeks spotlighted by the yellow streetlight that filtered between the closed blinds.

He smirked as he thought of how he was going to miss this before dropping back down to flick his tongue over her nipple.

The gasp she gave at his attention, as well as the flex of her hand on his shoulder, made the fear of departing with the other draftees in a few short days seem so far away.

The jungle, however, was not fated to be his destination after all.

A call for Private Durand came in Scout's unit at boot camp one sweltering Georgia morning. It was followed swiftly by an interview on the topic of his physique with a bespectacled woman holding a clipboard, and claiming to be a representative of Builders League United.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting beside her in the cab of a pickup truck headed for the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, his satchel stowed in the tailgate , along with a few curious pieces of equipment.

Scout's one hand rested on the windowsill of the passenger side door, while the other subconsciously kneaded his dog tags as the woman slid a file across the dashboard to him.

She mentioned something about a team as he curiously opened it.

Penny's voice drew him back out of the scene. "This doesn't change anything. You're still at war."

Scout's disappointment mirrored hers as he replied, "I know."

He let go as she turned around to face him. "Look, it's not that I'm ungrateful for your offering to help, but you have other things to worry about now. That's kinda why we're friends, unless I missed something."

He shrugged. "Ya know me, it's hard to let go of things."

She smiled sadly before taking a step away from him. "I have to get back. You coming with me?"

"No thanks," Scout replied, "I'll take a shortcut."

The smile faded away as she replied, "See ya around, then."

"See ya."

He stayed rooted to the spot long enough to watch her black head disappear around the corner before continuing on his own path.

If he was with his team, he could at least break someone's skull as a reliever of stress, but in this place, he had to act civilized.

Scout halted in his steps.

"We're getting out of this."

The only problem was, he had no idea where to go.


End file.
